Slocum placed his palms on the countertop and pressed down, like he was trying to keep his kitchen from floating away. “I didn’t hear that call, and I didn’t hear Ann talking to that person. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
“But you know there was a call. You know Ann was on the phone earlier, and you know the Garber kid was there.” Slocum said nothing, so she carried on again. “Here’s what I don’t get, Darren. First of all, you’re a cop, so you’re trained to look for things that don’t add up. But you don’t seem very curious about the circumstances surrounding your own wife’s death.”
“That’s a lie,” he said, stabbing an accusing finger at her. “If you know Ann’s death wasn’t an accident, I want to know what you know.”
“The thing is, I’m getting this sense you don’t want to know,” she said. “If it was me, and someone I knew died this way, I’d have a hundred questions. But you don’t have any.”
“Bullshit,” he said.
“And I can only think of two, maybe three reasons why that would be. You had something to do with it, or you know who did and you want to settle the score on your own. Or-and I haven’t quite sorted this one out yet-you don’t want us nosing around in this because it’s going to open up a can of worms you’d rather stayed closed.”
“You’re really something else,” he said. “Going after members of your own department. That give you a little thrill? You know the officers talk, right? About you? About how’d you make detective, anyway? Was it one of those equal opportunity things, trying to make up for the lack of black women detectives in the department?”
Wedmore didn’t even blink. “You got anyone who can vouch for where you were all night?”
“What? Are you serious? I was here with Emily.”
“So if I asked her now, she could tell me you never left the house? She never went to sleep?”
“I’m not having you bother my daughter at a time like this-”
“So you’re saying she wouldn’t be able to confirm you were here.”
Slocum’s face was starting to flush with anger. “We’re done.”
Wedmore didn’t respond.
“You look down on us guys still in uniform. You think, once you make detective, you’re hot shit and the rest of us are just a bunch of grunts.”
“Another thing,” Wedmore said. “I made some calls. You’re coming into some money.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your wife’s life insurance policy. She took it out only a few weeks ago. What’s the payout? A couple of hundred grand?”
“Lady, you’ve got one hell of a nerve-”
“Am I right, Darren?”
“Yeah, okay, so Ann and I both got life insurance. We figured we had enough in the monthly budget to cover the premiums. We wanted to make sure Emily would be okay if something happened to us.”
Wedmore’s look said she wasn’t buying it. “You were married before, weren’t you?”
Slocum balled his fists and now his face turned red. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I was.”
“Did you have a policy on your first wife, too?”
“No,” he said. He actually smiled. “Once they’d diagnosed the cancer, it wasn’t possible for her to get insurance.”
Wedmore blinked. She didn’t say anything for a moment, then pushed the mug across the counter in his direction. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll find my way out.”
“I have to make a couple of calls before we leave,” I said to Kelly. She rolled her eyes, like we were never going to get out of here, as I went down to my office. My first impulse was to contact the police about Sommer’s visit, but as I picked up the receiver I wondered what, exactly, I’d tell them. The guy oozed menace, but he really hadn’t threatened me. I was the one who said I’d beat him to death, if he came near Kelly.
So I made the other call. To Belinda’s real estate office.
“She’s not in right now,” the receptionist told me. “If you’d like to leave a message, I’ll-”
“What’s her cell number?”
She gave it to me. I hung up and dialed the new number. After two rings, an answer. “Glen?” she said.
“Yeah, Belinda.”
“Could I call you back? I’m just heading off to show a house.”
“No. We need to talk now.”
“Glen, if you called to chew me out about the lawyer thing, I told you, I’m sorry about that, I really am. I never-”
“Tell me what was in the envelope,” I said, removing the lid from the shoebox under the desk and taking it out.
“Excuse me?”
“The one you gave to Sheila. You answer all my questions about it, and it’s yours.”
Silence at the other end of the line.
“Belinda?”
“You found it? So it really wasn’t in Sheila’s car?”
“That depends. You tell me what was in it, and I’ll tell you if I’ve found it.”
She started making funny breathing sounds. I wondered whether she was hyperventilating or something.
“Belinda, are you there?”
Her voice small, whispering. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it.”
“Just tell me.”
“Okay, okay, okay, it was an envelope. A brown business envelope. And there was… there was some money inside.”
“So far, so good. How much money?”
“There should be… there should be sixty-two thousand in it.” She sniffed. She was crying.
I had counted it late last night, and she had it right. “Okay. Next question. What was it for?”
